Chapter 2 - Breaking the Gates**
The heavy wrought-iron security gates of the Beckett estate were built to withstand a battering ram, equipped with biometric scanners, encrypted keypads, and thick steel bars designed to keep the violent world of Chicago's underworld at bay. But Harrison Beckett had never factored in the raw, unadulterated wrath of four older brothers who had just discovered their pregnant sister was locked out in a freezing storm.
Pierce didn't bother pressing the intercom. He didn't look at the keypad. He walked straight up to the iron bars, his heavy-duty work boots splashing in the standing water, and grabbed the vertical bars with both hands. His biceps corded under his wet flannel shirt, veins bulging against his skin as he let out a low, primal roar that cut right through the howling wind.
With a sickening screech of tortured metal and snapping hydraulic bolts, Pierce ripped the motorized gate completely off its reinforced concrete hinges, throwing the heavy iron barrier aside like a discarded toy.
Inside the mansion, the dining room conversation died instantly.
Harrison Beckett turned his head toward the foyer, irritation flashing across his sharp, aristocratic features. He set his wine glass down on the mahogany table, looking out through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows just in time to see four massive, soaked silhouettes marching purposefully across his pristine gravel courtyard.
Beside him, Genevieve gasped, her fingers clutching the lace of her black dress. "Harrison... who is that? Are those your associates?"
Harrison stood up slowly, a cold knot tightening in his stomach. He recognized the heavy build of the men marching toward his front entrance. He knew the reputation of the Tate family from the South Side—decent, working-class men who stayed out of syndicate politics, but whose loyalty to one another was legendary across the city.
Before Harrison could reach for the concealed firearm tucked into the small of his back, the heavy oak front door of the mansion exploded inward.
The reinforced deadbolts splintered like matchwood as Brody threw his entire weight against the timber. The door slammed against the interior wall with a thunderous crack, shattering the decorative porcelain vase on the entryway table into a thousand glittering pieces.
Harrison stepped into the hallway, his face hardening into a mask of arrogant authority. "What the hell do you think you're doing? This is private property! You’re trespassing on federal—"
He didn't get to finish the sentence.
Marshall crossed the twenty-foot foyer in three giant strides, his hand shooting out to grab Harrison by the lapels of his expensive bespoke suit. With a surge of pure, raw fury, Marshall hoisted the syndicate boss off his feet and slammed him violently against the venetian plaster wall, the impact knocking the wind completely out of Harrison’s lungs.
"You son of a bitch," Marshall whispered, his voice trembling with a rage so deep it was almost silent. "Where is she?"
Harrison gasped for air, his hands clawing uselessly at Marshall’s wrists. "I... I don't know who—"
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"Don't play dumb with me, you cowardly piece of trash!" Devlin shouted, stepping up right beside Marshall and shoving a finger into Harrison’s pale face. "We saw her suitcases stacked in the garage like garbage. We saw you sitting in here eating steak while your wife was locked out in the freezing rain!"
"She's in labor, you worthless bastard," Pierce’s voice boomed from the doorway, carrying a terrifying, measured deadliness that made Harrison’s blood run cold. Pierce wasn't yelling. He walked slowly into the foyer, his wet boots leaving dark puddles on the imported marble floor, his eyes locked entirely on Harrison’s throat. "If anything happens to my sister or my niece... I won't just kill you, Beckett. I will dismantle everything you've ever built, brick by bloody brick, until there is nothing left of your name."
